Overwatch - Tracing the Widow
by ArielFetters
Summary: Tracer realizes no one's doing the right thing. Widowmaker's annoyed Tracer keeps calling her a slave. Agent 67 wants to shoot both of them, and Reaper laughs his ass off. One-shot, complete.


Tracing the Widow

Overwatch and all related properties/characters are owned by Blizzard Entertainment. The author makes no claims to any of the sites, settings, or characters within. Story was written and disseminated at no compensation.

This is my first ever one-shot story. It's a Widow and Tracer focused story and takes place a few months after the assassination of Mondatta in King's Row. I woke up one morning and by the end of the day, other than a few details and basic editing work, it was done.

"Hello slave."

Widowmaker twitched as that amusing pest Tracer's voice sounded in her ear. She flipped up to her feet into a shooter's kneeling position, engaged her helmet's optics, and looked around while saying "Cute cheré, but not interested."

"Not that kind of slave, and not for me luv."

She spun again but all she caught was a flicker of light as the woman raced off.

Now intregued, she asked "Non?"

A memory stick appeared at her feet in a flash of blue. "Content slaves don't rebel."

Then the electric whoosh of the suddenly very intriguingwoman faded into the distance and she was left with nothing but questions, cryptic comments, and a memory stick she suspected was some pitiful attempt to turn her to the side of 'good'. Poor girl, there were no such things as good or evil. Simply sides you took and sides you took out.

Still, this was a very large deviation from their usual games so why not play?

After all, spiders never sank their teeth onto their prey until they became _interesting_.

-^V^- -^V^-

"What the hell are you playing at Oxton?!"

Lena Oxton, codename Tracer, looked up from the book she was reading, a treatise on the effects and treatments for Stockholm Syndrome, as the mission commander stormed up to her in the transport. Other members of the team, Reinhart, Mercy, Hanzo, looked up from their own pastimes and watched as Ana Amari furiously demanded answers.

"A lotta things. Ya gotta be more specific."

"You approached Widowmaker, dodged her a few times, then left. Why?"

"I only fight villains luv, not victims."

She saw that surprise everyone and stated "Amélie Lacroix didn't _choose_ to be Widowmaker. She was _forced_ to become Widowmaker. She doesn't go back to being the woman she was because like any good little brainwashed pet they beat into her that thinking for herself, questioning things, can only ever hurt her. Yes, she took your eye. Yes, she killed her own husband. Yes, she's killed other agents of overwatch, shot most of us at least once, and assassinated people we care about. None of it's been because _Am_ _é_ _lie Lacroix_ wants to. _Widowmaker_ isn't much more than an autonomous weapons system with no real mind of her own."

That got several people's attention, especially Hanzo since his brother had been turned into a cyborg assassin that regularly did things that'd once been abhorrent to them both.

She stood and looked the surprised Egyptian woman in her remaining eye. "I don't blame a gun for shooting people, I blame the _people pulling the trigger._ I'm hoping to get her to start thinking for herself again, maybe break her out of her shell and realize what was done to her was wrong. Maybe even free her mind enough to bring back a bit of the woman she's supposed to be." She then held up the book she'd been reading. "I'm not sloggin through this brick for fun."

"People have already tried to turn her... "

She interrupted the woman's furious declaration with "I read the files. Morrison, who was a friend of Gérard Lacroix and not trained, at all, in how to handle victims of forcible personality alteration, was the first. He went in hard and fast, like he was taking an objective, and he attacked. If he'd intended to take her alive he would've taken stun weapons. He didn't. If he wanted to un-bugger her noodle, he'd have studied up on what'd been done to her and then asked a professional how to fix it. He didn't. He just went in guns blazing. That's not 'trying to fix her' that's 'reinforcing that she's an enemy agent and cutting off any lingering hopes she might've had to find safety with the people that once loved her'. If you think otherwise read this." She stated, poking the book at the woman. "It's over a thousand pages of psychological hoodoo I'm chewing through trying to fix someone you apparently _can't be bothered_ to see is even more of a victim in all of this than the rest of us put together!"

"Why you... She tried to kill me! She took my eye!"

"Better an eye than your heart, mind, and soul!" She countered furiously, startling the old woman. "She tricked me into letting her kill someone I respected and looked up to. She poisoned me, beat me like a drum, broke my chronal accellerator, and trapped me in the slipstream for who knows how long since time goes weird there." She countered. "She's shot me more times than I care to count and blown me up more than a few."

"So why are you so set on risking your life for that traitor?!"

"Would you call Bastion a traitor if someone ripped his personality out of his body, tossed it in the loo, and stuck a standard war-mech program in there? Would you rail at Zenyatta if someone tore his mind out of his body and put a standard Omnic system in his skull? Or Gengi, who was once the image of honor and now stabs people in the back for a living? Should his brother over there be trying to murder the only family he has left for being turned into a cyborg assassin against his will?"

"Enough of this! You're just after another piece of ass! The next time you run into Widowmaker, you open fire or I'll haul you back to base in chains!"

"So that's it huh? Do as I say or pay? Obey or be destroyed?" She stepped forward, glaring at the furious woman. "The moment we can't be bothered to save one of our own, who was attacked and _didn't choose to do any of this_ , is the moment I start asking myself if we're the good guys." She paused a moment, then added "Especially when the people in charge start saying 'Think for yourself or question your orders and you'll suffer."

Without another word she sat back down and resumed reading while the rest of the unit fell silent, even the overbearing battleaxe that still looked to be half a mind to kick her out the nearest hatch sans parachute.

-^V^- -^V^-

When they got back to base they cycled through medical, did debrief, and when she was on her way out of the place Winston was waiting for her next to the exit looking concerned.

"I heard what you said. Is that how you see things?"

"Stop looking at this as an agent of Overwatch and start looking at it as a scientist luv. I tried the first, never could make sense of the woman. Tried the second, like I'd like to think you'd have done, and she made sense pretty much on the spot."

"And what Ana said?"

"What, about me being after a piece of ass? I won't deny I find Amélie physically attractive but I wouldn't risk my life just to get laid. If that's what I was after it'd take me all of ten minutes and a pint at a pub. I'm doing this because someone has to and no one else is."

The massive gorilla nodded thoughtfully. "I see. You're right, people are ignoring basic logic in favor of personal vendettas. Considering what happened in King's Row I'm surprised you're the only one looking at things objectively."

She sighed. "I won't deny I was upset but you didn't see her eyes. I did and... there's nothing in 'em. Sure they twinkled as she mocked me and tried to kill me, but when I was face to face with her that's what caught my attention. Her eyes were just... empty. That's why I hesitated."

"I think, if Mondatta were here, he'd have been happy his death didn't make you seek revenge on the one that nearly killed you but redemption of the woman that killed him."

She sighed. "I try to tell myself that but I wish he was here so I could ask."

-^V^- -^V^-

The next time she ran into Widowmaker was just over a month later. When the woman realized she was there she asked (In that entirely too sexy french accent) "What is it you're after cheré?"

"Wrong question luv."

That earned her an irritated look. "Non? And what is the right question?"

"What do you want?"

"I want to do my job."

"A job implies money. When was the last time you were paid?"

The woman paused a moment, then said "Never."

"Did you get a chance to say no?"

"Non."

"Does it bother you that you've 'worked' for Talon for years, but never got paid more than room and board for it?"

A small smirk. "And what would you know of my living accomodations petit?"

"That you live out of hotels using fake ID's. You never go out, have no hobbies, and no friends. I know that when you're not on the job you just sit there in the dark waiting for orders like a mindless robot."

"I'm a professional." The woman stated sternly. "I've no time to laze about like some."

"Yesterday you spent seven hours staring at a wall."

She didn't miss the faint tightening in the brunette's eyes even as the woman smirked and suggestively asked "Watching me while I sleep hmm? I never took you for a voyeur."

"I'm trying to help luv."

"I don't need your help! I am what I was made to be!"

"Content slaves don't rebel."

She left the woman with that, what she was hoping would be enough of a prick to the woman's ego to piss her off enough to maybe break her conditioning. Having done what she could, for the moment, she rejoined the main fight and set about venting her frustrations by kicking Junkrat around like a tin can.

-^V^- -^V^-

Two weeks later she found the woman covering some low level Talon thugs as they raided a a power junction for spare cells. "Can't stay away cheré?"

"Truce? You don't shoot, I don't shoot. We talk like a couple civilized people?"

"You play a dangerous game petit."

"It's never been a game to me luv."

"Non? Intéressant. Very well, I agree."

She waited until the woman had set down that damn rifle of hers, then sat down on the perch next to her, set her guns next to that weapon, and said "Nice to finally talk to you. Lena Oxton, at your service luv."

"Mon ami, if you were at my service we'd be doing far more... interesting things."

"No, we wouldn't."

"Oh? I read your dossier cheré, so I _know_ I'm your type."

"True, but the one saying no wouldn't be me."

"Non?"

"When was the last time you slept with anyone? Male, female, in between, both, whatever?"

She noted the hesitation in the woman's voice before she got a 'Not since they made me what I am."

"So you don't get paid, you don't get laid, and the drugs they give you to enable you to do what you do leave you feeling like something a train ran over."

Another pause. "How would you know?"

"I dosed myself to see what it'd feel like."

"Mon diu, you're insane!"

"If I'm gonna get your head unscrambled I need to be able to see what you see so I can figure out how to show you what you see isn't real."

An amused chuckle. "So I'm insane mon cheré?"

"I'm not the one that needs to answer that question luv."

"Enough games, what is it you're after?" the brunette asked irritably.

"I protect the innocent."

"I'm far from innocent." the woman countered with a breathy chuckle that made all the wrong parts of her tingle.

"Are you? Aside from the killing you live a life a monk would call austere."

"Ah, but the killing... "

"If you were to decide you'd rather go dancing tomorrow than kill people, would they let you?"

"And if I said oui?"

"I'll be here at 8 PM local. Drinks and dinner are on me. No interference, no unwelcome guests. Just you, me, and whatever happens." she said, sticking a piece of paper under the woman's gun.

"A date then?"

"It would be if you showed, but you won't."

"Non? And why is that?"

"Because slaves don't get to go dancing." She said sadly.

-^V^- -^V^-

Five weeks later they ran into each other in the Swiss Alps as Overwatch and Talon fought over a VIP in an airport.

"You didn't show luv." She said by way of greeting.

"I... had better things to do."

"Sitting in a dark room staring at a blank wall is better than a night on the town with free food and wine?"

"I was on a mission!"

"No, you weren't. I'd know, I spent three hours wiping tears from your face as you cried luv."

"I... don't cry. I couldn't, even if I were foolish enough to want to. It's a sign of weakness and I'm not weak. Not like _you_."

"That's because only people shed tears. The monsters who made you couldn't afford to have a person behind that trigger so they took a person and locked away everything she'd ever been, everything she'd ever wanted to be, and did everything they could to dehumanize her to the point she started equating being a person to pain."

"Your point?"

"In King's Row, when I'd tackled you to the roof's edge, I demanded to know why you'd murder an innocent man, and you started laughing."

"You were so innocent and niéve. It was adorable."

"I'm not the one who was laughing like they were sobbing."

"Cute cheré but you're forgetting. I don't cry."

She finally stopped dodging about and set down a picture. "Yes, you do."

It was looked at and the woman scowled. "What are you after mon ami? Your game grows tiring."

"Monsters don't cry. _People_ do."

"Why are you so set on making me something I'm not? Why do you care?"

"Because someone should, and all the people that were supposed to didn't." She remarked, a tear crawling down her cheek before she disappeared back into the slipstream.

-^V^- -^V^-

Widowmaker walked into Sombra's room in the hotel Talon had rented out and once the door was closed, said "I need you to hack my brain."

"Jigga WHA?! Slow down chiquita and 'splain to me why I should stick my digi-wick in your noggin."

"Something has been editing my memories. Things I know for a fact happened I have no memory of, and things I know for a fact didn't happen I remember clear as day. I can't do my... job if I can't tell what's real and what isn't."

"Ohhhh, I get it. The puppet's starting to see the strings."

She scowled. "You're an anarchist mercenary. You don't care who does what to whom as long as you get money and cause chaos."

The insouciantfashion disaster shrugged and flipped a hand dismissively. "Eh, it's a talent."

"I have... nothing. But I can do work in trade."

"Oh, this should be FUN! I needed someone to cover me on a job but until now no one was crazy enough to say yes. Tell you what. You get me through in one piece, help me make it a real success, and I'll see if I can unscrew that head of yours a bit. Deal?"

""Agreed. You'll need to force my... programming... to allow me to help."

"Ohhh, jailbreak the assassin's brain! I'm liking this already! Siddown over there and let's get get a look-see at your OS."

-^V^- -^V^-

Tracer, no, Oxton, found her a month later. Another 'Freelance' job for Sombra to permanently remove people's abilities to alter her memories. She wasn't a computer savant so all she'd gotten out of the pests techno-babble was that her mind would be 'remembering' events twice, and when it detected interference the 'backup copy' would re-assert itself.

"Whatcha doin luv?"

She didn't remove her eye from the scope as she replied "Thank you."

She didn't miss the hope in her... friend's voice when she asked "What for?"

"Helping me when no one else would. I'm not... whole but I can remember enough of the woman that was to know she'd have been... grateful."

"You're welcome luv. So, whatcha doin?"

"Sombra and I have an arrangement. I help her, she undoes my programming bit by bit. It's not an... equal partnership but it's my only chance at being something other than a... slave."

"Better a slow solution than no solution at all luv."

"Oui."

They were silent a while, then Tracer asked "Is there anything I can do to help? You, not this."

"Tell herr doktor Zeigler they used an adapted form of formula 772-Pex Delta to make me more... malleable. Ask if there is a way to undo the effects."

She heard scribbling and then a "Got it. Anything else?"

She paused, then said "Tell Morrison that Gérard would've been désappointé and that what's left of the woman that was, is. Remind him that when I needed help he tried to kill me and that the only one willing to save me was a woman I tried to break."

She heard an embarassed chuckle. "Ah, right. Sorta already did most of that to that battleaxe Ama. That first time I talked to you she tried to gimmie a ration so I read her the riot act and kinda, maybe, accused her of acting like Talon when she threatened to have me hauled off in chains if I didn't obey her orders like a good little minion."

She felt a flicker of guilt for the first time in years and said "I know it likely means little, but I am... sorry for what I did to her."

"I'll tell her, but not until I can find some heavy armor first."

She smiled tightly. "Probably wise. I suggest you leave before Sombra 'suggest's I make you leave."

"Think she knows? I mean, I am kinda hiding here and I'm not wearing my usual day-glow yellow."

" _Of course_ I know chica. And while listening to you two lovebirds chat's cute and all we're kinda on a schedule. Vamoose, comprende?"

"Er, right. Uh, talk to you later."

She heard the familiar zap-whoosh of Tracer leaving at high speed, then shot a guard that was reaching for an alarm button.

-^V^- -^V^-

"Explain yourself agent Oxton."

She sighed. "Amélie Lacroix?"

"Widowmaker." Morrison, aka soldier 67, growled.

"Now, see, that's the problem right there." She noted, leaning forward. "Your friend's wife gets kidnapped, broken, and turned, all against her will by the enemy, and you _never tried to save her_. In fact everyone she should've been able to rely on for help _abandoned_ her when she needed them the most. And despite that I managed to get through to her enough that she's now asking for help."

"It's a double-cross." He stated flatly.

"So says the tosser behind Blackwatch." She retorted. "You know, the _illegal unit that got Overwatch disbanded_. Got all of Mei's friends killed? Turned your best buddy into Reaper? Turned the nations of the world against us to the point we couldn't just go our separate ways, we all needed to _run for our lives and hide_. Ringing any bells there? Say what you want, but Amélie didn't fuck people over of her own _free will_. She didn't turn her back on the people that needed her because she had a _choice_. That's more than you can say, isn't it?"

The handful of people in the tribunal chamber, and those watching the secured Overwatch personnel-only webcast, recoiled and gasped in shock.

Winston, the one who'd suggested webcasting major or interesting Overwatch administrative or operational actions to the appropriate parties in an effort to rebuild people's faith in the organization's honesty, started reconsidering if that'd been a wise course of action. While Tracer had a point she was going for the throat right at the start. Unusually vicious of her, actually.

Mei, who'd wondered what'd happened to destroy the original Overwatch and leave her entire research team stranded in the arctic, frowned at the screen before her as she worked on upgrading her ice gun again. So her friends had all frozen to death because of some... bungled American political posturing? And he was the fool responsible? They'd have been better off to stick with that UN exploratory department, paperwork overload or not.

Widowmaker, back in her room but watching via her cellphone and a Talon-hacked feed, managed a small smile. Her one friend, the only person she could trust, had just managed to make her look less the villain and the man who'd, if not caused, certainly made worse, pretty much everything wrong in her life look far less the hero. With the news out like it was however she needed to move before a Talon sweeper unit showed up to 'sterilize' her.

Reaper, normally dour and bitter, surprised everyone in the base he was in when he started laughing his ass off.

Sombra, back in her room hacking the Pentagon while watching five TV shows and three web feeds, all at once, started cackling almost maniacally and called out "Aiaiai! Let the games begin!"

Morrison, most of his face hidden behind the cybernetic visor, scowled and said "This isn't about my mistakes Oxton, it's about you violating your oaths and endangering us all."

"Oh? Please, explain to 'us all' how helping Amélie get her head back on straight and her life back together is so dangerous. 'Cause the way I see it, if she's fixing her life she's not shooting at people."

That only made his scowl intensify. "You've been in regular contact with an enemy agent. Yes or no?"

"Two of them, actually. Amélie and the doctor helping her permanently break her programming. I gave them no information, no money, and all it cost me was saying 'Please help.' You might wanna try it sometime. Instead of, you know, just shooting people that get in your way like Talon does."

Reaper's laugher turned into gut busting guffaws and he swore for that alone he'd start shooting at Tracer's kneecaps instead of her face.

Sombra's cackling grew louder, knowing that 'the doctor' comment would point people's attention right at the _one_ person that could've actually fixed Widowmaker's programming. It was devious, underhanded, and would kick Talon in the cojones when they were already reeling from the loss of their best assassin. Oh this was better than the world futbol championship!

Reinhart winced along with his friend Bjorn. The man's son exclaimed indignantly and said "That's underhanded and vicious beyond all call!" He chuckled and motioned to the screen in a corner of the bar with his stein. "Let that be a lesson to ya then lad. Go after a man's woman he'll bluster, smite you, maybe even try to kill you once the blustering and smiting are done. Go after a woman's lover though and she won't bluster or smite. She'll go straight for the throat like a parched man after beer and won't be much interested in mercy."

Ana Amari scowled at the screen in her apartment while her daughter, Fareeha, finished setting out dinner. "Mother, while I realize this is likely to be an unwelcome point, Tracer is not wrong." She sighed and sipped her tea. "I know. That doesn't make what was done to me easier." "Nor should it but as you taught me, assign the responsibility to those responsible. Not to those easiest to blame." She eyed the young woman and muttered "I think I raised you a bit too well."

Morrison grunted as the shot hit a bit too close to home. The kid was right, which was probably why it was pissing him off so much. That and her snarky damn attitude. He took a deep slow breath, then said "Look, I know you meant well and that against all odds you managed to get her to potentially see sense, but there's procedures for this kind of thing."

"Which procedures would those be? Because I checked the guidebook myself then ran a database search via Athena, and I didn't find anything."

He sighed. "That's because operations like that require special measures and heightened security. IE, you come to me and we see what we can manage."

"And if I had gone to you with the reams and reams of psychoanalysis and dissertations by experts and so on that I assembled, would you have given me a green light?"

"Likely not." He replied after a moment.

"Look, I'm sorry for jumping on people's toes like I did but what other choice did I have? I saw something wrong, I knew no one would help and that a lot would get in the way, so I did what I had to do. If you want to kick me out, I won't protest. I did run roughshod all over your authority but dammit, no one else was even interested in doing the right thing. And thanks to you demanding this be webcast live, Amélie's gonna have to run for her life if she isn't running or dead already."

That... crap. She had a point there too. Since when was the brat so damn smart?

"Wondering when I grew a brain cyber-man? Always had one. They didn't make me the youngest test pilot in Overwatch history because I had a nice ass. In fact the only people I know of in Overwatch that are smarter than I am are Mercy and Winston. I'm just a too-perky hyperactive chatterbox."

"Finally something I think we'd all agree with." He groused. People laughed a bit nervously and the young woman grinned.

After a minute he shook his head. "Look, you're right on all counts, much as I don't like admitting it, but you're also right about running roughshod over my authority as operations commander. This leaves me with a hell of a problem. I don't have much authority outside target direction and hiring/firing personnel. What you did was stupid and hare brained, and the right thing, all of which means I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. Take an honorable discharge, I'll make sure your records clean so you won't have any problems getting a new line of work, and you can go be... perky... somewhere else. Deal?"

"And you change the orders on Amélie from kill on sight to arrest/detain if possible."

He sighed. "Fine. Deal?"

"Sure. Here's my guns." She agreed, dumping them out of the slipstream onto his desk. "I'd give you my chronal accelerator but without it I'm not even a ghost. Besides, Winston and I own the patents."

"Fine. Goodbye."

He watched as she left, then sighed and groused "If we could get a thousand more like her that _weren't_ anti-authoritarian shitheads I could take out Talon and every other threat to humanity in a goddamn week."

-^V^- -^V^-

Tracer almost yelped when a familiar voice whispered "Bonjour mon cheré." in her ear.

She turned, then blinked as a woman with Amélie's voice smirked at her. Then she realized the natural looking skin had to be makeup and grinned. "Almost didn't recognize ya luv."

"Discrétion, valor." The drop dead gorgeous woman paused, then said "I saw your 'conversation' with the soldier. No one's... stood up for me like that in a very long time. That you threw away your career to protect me... I cannot put it into words."

"Well someone needed to do the right thing and no one else had the tits to try."

"Not because you are intéressé?"

She swallowed hard and did her best to ignore the fact she was suddenly sweating like she had the first time she'd managed to muster the guts to ask a girl out. "Er, I am? I just didn't want it to look like, well, I had ulterior motives."

"Did you?"

"No. If you were to tell me you never wanted to see me again and walk out that door I'd be sad but I wouldn't stop you. It's your life, and about time you got to make your own choices again."

"And if I said those nebulous motives would be returned?"

She swallowed again. "I'd probably need smelling salts and a stiff drink."

That earned her an airy chuckle. "You are absolument adorable mon cheré."

"I, ah, try? I think?"

"Were you able to speak to herr doktor before you left?"

"Yeah. She gave me this letter for you. Said it's got what you asked for but it won't necessarily be what you want. Also has a number you can call to verify it." She noted, offering the woman a thick manilla envelope.

"Too traceable, sans vouloir vous offenser."

She grinned. "None taken luv, but you're forgetting something. I know how that system works so I know how to bollix the works for a bit."

"In that case we should take my car. You can drive while I read."

Surprised, she asked "You've got a car?"

"A cash rental and only for 6 hours. I intend to return it after three."

"In that case let's get goin."

She nodded to the bartender to let the woman know she was done, then followed Amélie out to a sedan that was a bit on the posh side, but not as much as she'd honestly expected. Once her companion had unlocked it she slid into the driver's seat, got everything adjusted, then pulled out and got them pointed towards a part of the city's industrial sector where electical interference would be greatest.

A few minutes later the temporarily pale skinned woman next to her asked "How long until I can make a call safely?"

"Five minutes and keep it under 90 seconds. My purse, there's a throwaway phone you can use if you don't have one."

"Why are you so... compétant at this?"

"When overwatch went underground, well, if you weren't an expert on countersurveillance you were in a cell somewhere. Especially for those of us who decided to keep helping people, ban on vigilante actions or not."

"Ah. Do you know what this letter contains?"

"No idea luv. The doc just said get it to you, don't open it, and don't ask what's in it unless you offer to tell me."

"Intéressant."

They rode in silence until she parked next to an electrical transformer and said "Give 'er a ring but remember, 90 seconds."

The woman nodded, pulled the phone out of her purse, and dialed Mercy's number on speakerphone.

"Ja? Who am I speaking to?"

"Herr doktor, this is Amélie Lecroix, or what is left of her at least."

"Amélie! Are you all right? I mean, all things considered?"

"Better than I'd expected until I got your letter. Are you 'bet your life' sure? Because you would be betting mine."

"I wish I wasn't sure. Unfortunately I came up with the base formula for the treatment used on you as an antidepressant and hypnotic agent for use on severe emotional trauma cases who were too hurt to speak or be coherent. To sum up what they did to you they broke the cage, beat the bird inside and then stuffed it into a vault, then rebuilt the cage, put in a new bird, and locked it in. It's frankly surprising your personality isn't unravelling."

"I am... tenacé."

"Good. Is Tracer there?"

"Hiya Mercy!"

"Are you behaving yourself?"

"GAH! I'm not a guy! I can think with something besides my reproductive organs."

Amélie shot her a smile and said "She has been very gallant I assure you."

"Good. When you two finally settle somewhere I expect an invite to the wedding."

"MERCY!"

Amélie chortled and hung up. "She hasn't changed."

"Ugh! If I wouldn't get me a boot in the arse I'd go over there and give her an earful! We haven't even gone on a proper date yet!" She blushed beet red and added "If, er, we do."

The woman smiled and kissed her cheek, making her head feel like she was a drop of blood from a cranial explosion."You are precieux mon cheré."

She muttered "Right now I'd settle for not having a coronary." and turned the car back on, then got them pointed at a side street she'd seen a trash compactor slot in. The phone was doused in bleach from a bottle in the car's trunk, then tossed in. Having done what they needed to do they returned the car and called Shuttlecar for a ride to a nearby hotel.

-^V^- -^V^-

"I think this hotel is now my favorite place on the planet."

Amélie chortled. "Mon ami, this is nothing. If I were to ever reclaim my family estate it would make this look like a gardening shed."

"This bathroom _alone's_ bigger than my first apartment!"

"Chere, Gérard and I each had closets larger than this simply for our clothes."

"That's... GAH! I knew you were a posh type before but jeeze."

She regarded her companion dubiously. "You drugged yourself with potentially lethal chemicals simply so you could experience what I was forced to suffer through but you did not think to appraise old records?"

"I did! I just, you know, thought it was a scale thing. Trick lenses or something."

"So you're not after my money?" She asked teasingly.

"Gah, no. I'd marry you if it'd _cost_ me monEEP!"

She laughed as the freckled woman clamped both hands over her own mouth and blushed the most adorable shade of red. "Mercy is many things mon ami, and her talent for matchmaking lags only slightly behind her medical abilities. She likely started planning the bachelorette party the moment she heard you were going to such lengths to save me."

"Uh, does that mean I'm semi-engaged to the world's most beautiful ex-assassin whose voice made me go through puberty again the first time I heard you talk?"

She chortled. "While the question hasn't been asked or answered yet, oui."

Her not-yet-lover's shoulders slumped. "My mum's gonna murder me."

-^V^- -^V^-

"Soooo, lemme see if I have this right. The only real way to free you is to swap the locks on who you are from Talon to me, and then order you to be the real you?"

"According to Mercy and my own admittedly limited research, oui."

"But I don't want to tell you what to do or who to be! That's supposed to be your choice!"

She sighed. "A man finds and lamp and rubs it. A genie emerges and offers him three wishes. His lone wish is that the genie be free. Is that genie thus free?"

That earned her a sad nod. "Yeah, I just... it feels wrong to tell you what to do, even if it's to tell you to think for yourself."

"Is that not what you've been doing for the last two odd years?"

"I was trying to convince you to think for yourself, sure, but I never just sat there and demanded you do it!"

"Be that as it may, this is the lone path open to either of us, and I suspect not for long."

"Shite." She sighed, then asked her sorta fiancee "What do you need me to do?"

""You inject me with this, wait until my pupils dilate to the point you can barely see the irises, and then say what you must before my eyes start to refocus. Once they're focused again whatever you do will be cemented and indélébile. Then I will likely faint and remain unconscious for most of a day."

She nodded, sighed, then said "Head to bed then. If you're gonna sack out for a day it'd be the only comfy place I could think of to do it."

"My, how forward."

She blinked, then blushed beet red again and exclaimed "Dammit, now you're doing it on purpose!"

"Of course. You're précieux when you blush." The woman replied, smirking.

"If you're gonna torment me for the rest of my life, why am I marrying you again?"

That damn smirk only got worse. "Perhaps that I can do things with my tongue to make a Parisian courtesan stammer like a schoolgirl?"

"Amélie!"

-^V^- -^V^-

Widowmaker, now clad in a _mostly_ there nightgown, settled herself on the gelform mattress topped in silk sheets and smiled as Lena pulled the covers up over her, making a great effort to look anywhere but at her body. She'd have thought it out of dégoût if not for the fact the woman's head was the color of a tomato.

Once she was settled she nodded and her companion kissed her forehead, then set the pneumatic injector against her neck and pulled the trigger. There was a hiss, a tingly flush through her entire body, and then everything slowly turned dreamlike. The edges all softened, colors became brilliant, shadows sinister. Lights glittered like stars in the night sky, and Lena... Lena was a goddess drifting through the world in grace and beauty.

Time burbled and flowed like a meandering brook then a voice, the goddess, asked her if she could hear it's celestial words.

"I can."

Getting the words out was like rolling jello and cotton candy around her tongue. It was so spectacularly odd she quite enjoyed it.

"What is your name?"

The universe lost its luster. The light dimmed, beauty fading to a void that left an ache in her chest.

"Je... ne sais pas."

"Your name is Amélie Lecroix."

Everything brightened again, the doom threatening her soul faded.

"What is your name?"

What an odd question. How could a goddess not know who she was? "Amélie Lecroix."

"What do you do for a living?"

The dimming came back, the death of the world approached.

"Je... ne sais pas."

"What do you want to do?"

Warmth and joy returned.

"Danse. I used to be quite a good ballerina. Gérard used to love watching. Why can't he watch anymore?"

"A.. broken woman named Widowmaker was forced to kill him. She's... not here anymore."

Sadness, loss. "Why did she kill my mari?"

"She didn't want to but she had no choice."

"Was she punished?"

"Yes. Inhumanly so."

"Oh. That's sad. Gérard wouldn't have wanted people to suffer because of him."

"I'm sure she's... better now."

"Cést bien."

"Amélie, could you please do something for me?"

A request from a goddess? How could she refuse? The very concept was preposterous. "Bien sûr. Anything."

"I want you to be Amélie Leroix, and I want you to think for yourself. Don't let anyone tell you who or what to be, okay? Just be you, now and forever."

The goddess wanted her safe? How favored she must be to be cherished so. "Avec palasir!"

"Good. Rest, and remember who you were before the bad woman came."

"Oui."

-^V^- -^V^-

Lena sagged in relief as Amélie's eyes closed and her breathing slowed until she was obviously asleep. The hard part was done. Now all she needed was for no one to interfere until her kinda-fiancee woke up and everything would be okay. Since no one knew where they were - heck, she wasn't even sure where they were and she'd been driving - the chances anyone did were pretty damn low. All she needed to do was order in, tell room service not to make any noise, and presto. Problem solved.

She fell asleep next to the bed holding a purplish blue hand. When she woke up it was phone buzzing to announce that room service was bringing up the breakfast she'd scheduled last night. She accepted the tray then silently carried it to the dining room (Seriously, what the hell kind of hotel had opulent 8-person dining rooms for single suites?!) to eat.

She was just finishing her toast (How the heck the chefs made _toast_ taste sublime she had no idea but damn did she want to learn) when there was an almost musical tink sound from the bedroom and the too-familiar wet thwack of a bullet hitting flesh.

"Amélie!"

She slipstreamed into the bedroom and saw the woman she loved bleeding, trembling in shock from a gut hit by a large caliber rifle. She ripped the covers off the bed, threw them up in front of the window to block the shooter's view, then quickly but carefully moved Amélie to the bathroom where there were no windows and only one way in or out. A quick check was bad news, but with proper medical care her hopefully soon to be lover would be fine.

Whoever had shot her lady however?

They weren't gonna be fine at all.

She ran back out to the room, opened one of their two suitcases, and pulled Widowmaker's collapsed sniper rifle out. A quick check to make sure it was good to go later she got into a solid standing shooter's stance, used the bullet path to triangulate the general area the shooter had to have been in, and started looking for idiots to shoot.

She found five.

A three man Talon sweeper team led by the bounty hunter McCree and the insane scientist Moira atop the roof of a nearby hotel, all of them clumped at the edge highlighted by the skyline lights. They were just under a klick away and McCree, whom she'd have sworn was a pistoleer, was fighting with the bolt action on his 'sniper rifle'. It was little more than a mildly customized hunting rifle however and the gun against her shoulder was likely three times as accurate, not to mention hit a hell of a lot harder.

She sighted in on the redhead's face, slowed her breathing, and pulled the trigger. The gun thumped, punched her in the shoulder, and she was rewarded with a disturbing view of the woman's head coming apart like an over-inflated balloon.

She smoothly shifted targets, following the bounty hunter as he ran to cover, a sheet metal air conditioning duct, then charged the rifle and shot him through it. A spray of red, the flap of a poncho as he fell.

The Talon agents, seeing their heavy hitters dead by sniper fire when intel had said there was only one sniper on site, did the smart thing and hauled ass for somewhere out of her line of fire.

"Wankers. You'd better pray Amélie gets through this okay because if she doesn't I will hunt your asses down like frigging cockroaches and stomp on every last one of you."

"A bit morbid, non?"

She spun, saw the woman standing in the bathroom doorway holding a hand towel to her stomach, and exclaimed "Amélie!"

"Since when were you so habile with a rifle?"

"About the same time Widowmaker put two rounds in my left thigh while I was standing in the open like an idiot. I decided if I was gonna be facing a sniper the best way to counter one's to know what they can and can't do. I won't claim I'm great, or even very good, but I can evidently get the job done."

"Who?"

"Moira and McCree. About 850 meters northwest, three or so stories up. Two shots, two down."

"That's actually... quite compétent. Grab me a cognac if you would? While I'll be healed from this in a few hours that doesn't help much with the pain."

She nodded dubiously, then did as asked.

"Thank you. Now leave the room, I need to remove the bullet and don't wish to force you to watch."

She swallowed hard, then said "EMT's should be here soon. They could do it and give you a proper dose of painkillers."

"We can't afford to stay cheré. Talon obviously knows where we are and with their primary shooters dead their next move would be to send fake EMT's to finish the job."

"Can we afford five minutes?"

"Yes, though not much more. Why?"

"Ever hear of blood cupping?"

"Vaguely."

"It uses heat to create a vacuum. I can, well, suck the bullet out. The problem is it'd also yank out any clots."

"Do it."

She nodded and headed to the kitchen for an empty carafe, then pulled her lighter from a hip pack and started heating the inside of the glass while Amélie asked "Where on Earth did you hear of such a thing?"

She paused a moment, then said "Mondatta. He had a whole video series on wholistic medicine."

She didn't miss the look of guilt that flickered across her companions face. "That wasn't you Amélie, it was a thing they put in you." Then her patient opened her mouth to protest she overrode her. "I studied stuff like that so I wouldn't hurt you more than help. The psychology of mental alteration, stockholm syndrome, trauma induced false memory syndrome. I haven't had a slog like that since I got my master's in aerospace engineering."

"You put yourself through all of that to help me? And never hoped for a reward?"

Feeling sheepish she mumbled "Well someone... "

"You, mi amore, are entirely too humble."

She blushed, then smiled and said "Well one of us has to be."

-^V^- -^V^-

Lena Oxton and Amélie Lecroix disappeared for nearly 6 months. In those 6 months Talon was mysteriously and publicly gutted. Bases were destroyed, some of their best agents killed, their finances and allies exposed. In short order they dropped from a worldwide threat to little more than a particularly vicious extremist group.

Then, suddenly, Helena and Amélie Lecroix popped up after a few short and surprisingly simple inquiries and moved into the Lecroix estate which according to rumor became a very debauched pleasure palace for two in short order as the couple enjoyed their honeymoon.

Overwatch, with their biggest target suddenly floundering, refocused on it's original goal of the Omnic threat and in short order was re-sanctioned as an official if tightly controlled agency.

Lena (Now Helena since she'd always thought her name hit the ears like a soggy biscuit) teamed up with Winston and established 'Slipspace Systems'. An independent thinktank dedicated to slipspace technology. In short order they had a prototype medical system in testing that could, if it was fully developed, revolutionize emergency trauma care. Money swamped their coffers and Helena, to her bemusement, wound up surprisingly wealthy. Amélie, with her name now cleared opened a dance studio and in short order had a solid staff of talented professionals working for her. The studio quickly became a success thanks to the notoriety of its founder and the hard work of everyone involved, that founder included.

-^V^- -^V^-

Epilogue

She looked around, checking out the defenses and the people in the area as she made her way though 'Overwatch Plaza' to the recruiting center. People of both genders were giving her curious, often appreciative eyes, but she was used to that. She had an athletic body clad in a fairly snug bodysuit with pale, slightly bluish skin and a long black ponytail.

She hitched her gear bag up higher on her shoulder then headed inside and was surprised at what she saw. She'd expected statues of heroes past, flags, posters, things to impress potential agents. Instead it was oddly spartan and consisted largely of a 'pick a number' system and some desks with former agents behind them to do interviews. Since no one was engaged in such activities she simply walked over to the nearest one and stopped in front of them. She looked them over and had to admit she wasn't impressed. It was an early model cyborg and old, if the wrinkled and slightly gaunt skin was any indication.

Utterly bored he gave her a cursory appraisal and asked "Name."

"Elizabeth Sinistere Lacroix." She replied, her french accent lilting her voice.

The man frowned.

"Age?"

"Nineteen."

"Citizenship?"

"France, no legal issues."

"Educational level?"

"Collegiate with BA's in economics, aerospace engineering, and political sciences."

She could almost see his eyes rolling as he remarked "Brainy type eh? Specialty?"

"Scout/Sniper."

The frown returned.

"Code name?"

She smiled, savoring the moment.

"Call me... Widowmaker."


End file.
